The Dungeon Child

I took a deep breath with the orifice in the front of my head, pulling nitrogen, oxygen, and water vapor into my body. The combination of gases mix in my lungs, releasing their primary components into my system, and what’s left is modified into carbon dioxide in the process, which I then have to let backoutof my lungs via a hard exhalation.

I used to feel disgusted whenever I had to do this, but now it’s almost second nature, though I have yet to make it a habit. This curious process is entirely ridiculous. It’s infinitely more efficient to absorb mana and use it to operate without any of these chemicals, which have the added insult of causing a slow decay of cells. At least, I’m hoping that it’s the air that’s causing the cell decay inside my body and not some horrific defect of this body.

It’s been six years since I was crushed by thatlittle piece of-

Calm down. Pull that minuscule amount of mana that you’ve detected since your origin, and let it flow through you, through your pathetically small brain and limbs, lighting up your inefficient nervous system and speeding all your snails-pace processes significantly.

It’s been six years since I was destroyed. Six agonizingly long years that I find myself unable to sleep through. Six years during which I had to learn an entire language, come to terms with my new existence, andgrow.If there’s one thing this small human body can do, it’s grow. Not anywhere near the rate that I’m used to, but it does it consistently and without effort. In fact, I attempted to slow it down with no success, unfortunately. I could have easily developed while having my every whim catered to, butno,this body just keeps going without my permission.

“Hello there, Jason! Come say hello to your mommy!” My stupid little face grinned despite my best efforts, and I was scooped up by the monolithic creature known as Mother. This being was one of the few perks of being a human, as almost whatever desire I was capable of clearly expressing was met. Unfortunately, while I can use my mouth properly, anything with more than two syllables emerges from my mouth utterly incomprehensible. A drunk goblin with two brain cells to rub against each other could have spoken more clearly than what I was saying, which led to my final discovery: either all species with an ounce of magical ability have been banned from the world I exist in, or they do not exist here to begin with.

It’s a horrifying thought, but one of the many that I have slowly come to grips with. I don’t know why in the world I came back as a human, of all things, but I know that I will stay alive with every resource available to me.

The Mother leaned down, looking me in the eye and smiling. “Now honey, I know that it might be scary, but I’ve enrolled you in kindergarten over at a very good preschool nearby.” Another being, an even larger one who calls himself Pop, snorted in his chair, flapping the sheet of human symbols and reading it more intently. “He can’t understand a word of what you’re saying, Anna. This whole preschool thing is going to be a waste of money.”

Mother stood up, hands on her hips in a clear ‘I’m angry at you’ manner that I’ve come to recognize over my long experimentation with the endurance of fragile objects (very important and not at all enjoyable for no apparent reason). “Frank, he’s smart and you know it. Kindergarten is going to be a breeze for him.”

Despite my clear agreement with Mother, Pop seemed unconvinced. “If he’s smart, why did it take him all the way to four to start talking? He barely says anything - he’s autistic, you crazy woman! Just send him to a home and be done with it.”

Autistic is a word I’ve come to recognize over the years. It’s a word Pop uses frequently to describe my behavior, though I’m quite certain it has negative connotations, as Mother tends to get very angry when he uses it. As for the extended period without conversation, I wanted to be sure that I could converse reasonably and logically, although it became apparent early on that not doing so at all was considered unhealthy.

In this case, Mother just sighed and turned back to me. “Now Jason, I want you to be extra polite at the kindergarten. No breaking things, all right?”

I make no promises. The advance of the science of endurance testing waits for no one.